


Seek Ye First

by Darklady



Category: Grantchester (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Happy Ending, Headcanon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7404322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard Finch finds peace, love, and faith - all with Ben Blackwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seek Ye First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/gifts).
  * Inspired by [books to help you with your life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5514860) by [spock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spock/pseuds/spock). 



> Inspired by books to help you with your life by spock… a much better writer who otherwise has no responsibility for my failures and errata. I make no claim on her work, and so even less on the work of the cannon Grantchester. (Or even the Canon of Grantchester.)
> 
> Yes, there is a special place in Hell for people like me. I think they call it a throne.

“Ay, Reverend. Doctor be around?”

“Soon.” Or so Leonard hoped, given the red he could see seeping though the rag of a bandage lumped over Will Bagley’s hand. “You had best come in and wait for him.”

The clinic room had been shut down hours earlier, when the last of the local mothers had been seen off by the visiting nurse, but the home kitchen was warm. That would mean pouring the last of the tea, which in turn would mean making more as the thrice-a-week housekeeper had stepped out just as Bagley had come in. Still – both piety and hospitality required the sacrifice.

“Ay.” The old man gave a good try at knocking the mud off his boots, and Leonard tried not to resent that it was as useless as the man’s tries at sobriety and steady employment. “Blessed we are to have him. Healing is a holy gift.”

“Well said, Mr. Bagley.” With that sentiment Leonard Finch could find no fault. Not that the blessing he counted dearest would have stood as such to the congregation – or indeed to the church proper. Over time, however, Leonard had found that some blessing were very improper indeed – and nonetheless to be rejoiced in as the actions of an implausibly benevolent Providence.

Case in point? When he had been transferred from curate in Grantchester to Resident this thin-soup city parish it had seemed more a punishment than a promotion. Thinking back, he blushed at the intemperance of his letter to Ben, one lacking charity both to Sidney (who should have stood up to the Bishop rather than lose his assistant) and to the Bishop (who should have thought more about the talents and inclinations of his dependant clergy) and to his parishioners-to-be (who were- yes- sodden, improvident, and indifferent to the point of atheism). All those things were still true, but… Leonard smiled up at the lovely domestic photos decorating the parlor wall… each in their own way proof of the miraculous complexities of Divine Mercy.

In those hard past days Leonard had prayed, and submitted, and trusted in God. Not a thing easily done, not for a man looking at exile from the closest to a true friend and the nearest to a home that he had known since childhood. Did the psalmist not teach ‘Commit thy Way unto the Lord; Trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to Pass.’

And oh – what a great thing came to pass.

Ben – then just a few days turned to Doctor Blackwood – wrote back asking if the vicarage (whatever pile of wood rot it should prove to be in such a paupers parish) might have lodging for a young doctor looking to set up a practice. Leonard telegraphed back that same night. Ben should come. He – Leonard - would sleep on a church bench if there were only one bed. The telephone rang at midnight. Ben. It was Ben. He had his ticket. Bed count would be no problem.

The creak of the door pulled Leonard from his reverie. “Doctor Blackwood?” His shout was loud enough to cover any less politic greetings. “In the kitchen. You have a patient.”

“Thank you, Reverend Finch.” Ben set his case down on the table. He made quick work of the dirty bandage, and slow labor over closing the wound. 

“Try to keep it clean, and leave it to air as much as possible. You don’t want an infection.” Not that the risk was high. The damage was not bad – not by the standards of industrial damage. An Oxford lad would have been crying for morphine. Will Bagley would settle for gin and grouse more over the hangover than the hurt. “Wrap it if you go out.”

“I be doing that, Doc.” Bagley stood, pulling down the hat he had not bothered to remove. “Guess I’ll be working tomorrow after all. Means I’ll be eating tomorrow as well.” The man laughed at the local jokes…which like all such local observations on the state of empty pockets was nothing of a joke. “Lucky we are to have you.”

“You’ll heal faster if you don’t push your luck.” Ben Blackwood gave a ritual glare. 

Leonard Finch showed the man out.

“Really, Ben?” Leonard leaned back on the closed door. “I think we are the ones pushing our luck.”

“It isn’t your luck I want to push.” Ben pressed his partner against the old wood. “Lock up and we can have tea, and something before tea.”

Leonard shivered. But truly, he thought when he could once again think, they had found more luck than any two men could expect. The Bishop had - to all observation – forgotten there even was a parish of Saint Sergius. If he did glance over the parish books it was with little interest in the clinic that took up the lower floor of the ancient priests-house. The National Health had proved nearly as blind, content to pay out a (sadly scant) wage with even scarcer supervision of said clinic. 

Nearly twenty years they had been together.

No one questioned the rental of half the vicarage. Really – what home in this neighborhood did not have a boarder?

Ben and he were pillars of the moral community. They were admired for their dedication. They were honored for their humble piety.

Leonard reached down, gripping a handful of oh-yes-that-please.

Was it not said that the Lord works in Mysterious Ways, His Wonders to Perform?

Ben writhed.

Wonderfully.

**Author's Note:**

> Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you. (Matthew 6:33… and I am going to the crispy place. I know.)


End file.
